Heaven's Gate

Foreign Travel Experience commences on Alitalia flight with Long Oyland woman across aisle braying for first two hours about places been to. (“Newpoht! Oh my Gawd when I tell you! Newpoht is very hoy-tone! And Santa Barbara? And last years when we did Hawaii?!”) and on and on ‘til panic mounts so high take out carefully prepared home-cooked food brought along just in case airline offers only one greasy cold-cut and a hard little fist of bread for breakfast. Consume in 90 seconds, then OOPS here comes Italian flight attendant, dead ringer for David Bowie as Ziggy Stardust to deliver small packet bagely pretzels swollen like dead fish in the tank.

“No!” think, “not good for!” then flip package, read fine print in Italian: “Nutritional Constituents” it reads, with, underneath, a rundown of ingredients, all meaningless to non Italian-speaking self; decide, heck, sucker its own constituents. MUST be good.

Eat, in two bites.

David Bowie returns, offering liberal pourings red wine, miraculously free of charge (provided airline ticket price not taken into account.)

Five minutes into vino, while listening to Long Island lady exclaiming in gravelly voice about Rodeo “Droyve,” Bowie comes yet again, this time with piping-hot school lunch look-alike: grey roast beef with grey-green broccoli both floating in taupe-colored sauce.

Turn up nose. Finally, take single bite. Stuff totally delicious! Suck up every bit, mopping gravy with napkin, practically.

Bowie approaches one more time, asks "Lasta leetle bita wine, Senora?"

Say "Maybe a touch heh heh."

Twenty minutes on, tummy full to bursting and with Long Oykand woman’s accent ringing in ears, fall asleep, not to wake til three-quarters of the way across Italy with air so clear it’s like something straight out of Central Casting, Alps themselves stretching their necks to tickle belly of plane.

Possible scenario: Plane actually went down mid-flight; wine-bearing angel on board, Heaven ahead, and this its front door.